Poetry, Vows, and Definitions
by livingdeadgirl
Summary: Hellboy comes across an old photo of Broom's and it brings to mind a story and many questions.


Title: Poetry, Vows, and Definitions

Author: Kora

Rating: PG-13

Genre: Drama/Romance/Angst…and some funny, if I do say so myself.

Summary: Hellboy comes across an old photo of Broom's and it brings to mind a story and many questions.

Disclaimer: I do not own Abe, H.B., Liz, or anyone else - they belong to Mike Mignola and some ideas therein to Guillermo Del Toro and the film geeks and stuff like that.

Author's Note: Like the Abe idea, this Broom fic came to me - I am sorry if it's a wee bit over the top but I am pretty proud of it to tell the truth. I think it's the best 'Hellboy' one I've done thus far.

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1988

Hellboy cautiously poked his head into his father's office.

"Pop?"

No answer.

"Pop," he drew out the word, "You here?"

There was no response, but then maybe 'here' should have been rephrased as 'hear' as Hellboy practically whispered the question. He edged in and closed the door behind him. He looked in Abe's tank and did not see him there, but this was no surprise, he knew Blue was off in another tank, testing out some new equipment the BPRD had made for him.

H.B. clasped both hands behind his back and rocked on his feet, whistling as he looked around. His eyes met with walls of books, statues, green and gold desk lamps, tables and chairs…leftover notes and scribbles - work undone. H.B's whistling grew louder, eyes darting side to side.

He still didn't hear any kind of response to his noise.

"Phew." Hellboy wiped at his forehead and relaxed, confidant that he was alone. He began to wander among the book stacks, curiosity eating away at him. He had never been in his father's office alone before - or at least, not alone without his father's knowledge.

He didn't know where Broom was right now, but he tried to not let this worry him. He was being adventurous - going where no son had gone before - through his father's things. Besides, he needed something to do - something to keep his mind off the newest member of the Bureau.

Warmth speared through his middle again as he thought of eyes that glittered like onyx stones at the bottom of a clear pool. Liz Sherman. Was there any name more beautiful and sweet to the ear than that? And her skin, smooth and porcelain pale…

H.B. shook himself, thoughts stubbornly gearing away from Liz. He could not think about her - to do so would only cause those knots of confusion to return…and the pain…

He had never felt such pain.

It was a new feeling and something he seriously disliked.

"Almost worse than Beets," he muttered under his breath. But then was anything worse than beets?! Well there was thinking about his origins…

Okay, more mental pain, hadn't he snuck in here for this adventure to avoid that? Nodding purposefully, he focused his eyes on the books. He pulled one down and flipped through it. The black ink almost seemed to run together before his eyes.

How could anyone read this stuff?! There were no cool pictures…heck, there wasn't even a lot of dialogue. Just big words like 'ambidextrous' and 'quixotic'…what was quixi…whatever it was anyway? He had never thought of words past 'quiet' and 'quit' that had the letter 'Q' in them. How many words began with 'Q' anyway?

This occupied his thoughts for a while, as he whistled some more, picking up another book now and then and flipping through it, mentally listing in his mind all the words he knew that began with 'Q'. Yeah, it was a dumb, boring activity but it did better for him than thinking about Liz.

Liz's name had a 'Z' in it…how many words began with 'Z'? Did it matter? Liz's name _ended_ in 'Z', so any other 'Z' words really didn't matter. But then Liz was short for Elizabeth, so really her name ended with an 'H'. He wondered why her parents named her that and if they had had any idea when she was little that she'd grow up to be this beautiful, desirable…

He scowled, realizing his mind was back on Liz. This was just not helping at all, he was going to get caught by his father poking through his things and feel completely down and out not for being caught but for being unsuccessful at pushing aside his confusing Liz feelings. As his hands slide alone a few book spines he paused, tapping one briefly. Perhaps one of the books could help him.

His father always consulted books for help on their cases…

Maybe one of these volumes spoke about how to handle troubles with women as opposed to demons. Of course, if Agent Moss was here, he'd tell H.B there really wasn't much of a difference between women and demons - so any book would do. This thought made H.B. snort and he selected a few with promising titles.

It was in this search that he ended up back in a very labyrinthine section of the Office's library and noticed, on the top of a very high shelf, a worn maroon book. Unlike its dusty brothers, this particular book was clean - obviously having been picked up and handled quite often.

He eased it down and noted its fabric cover was faded and cracked. No words were written on it but for some reason he was compelled by it. He placed it on top of the other books he had and wandered towards the nearest table. He almost sat the books down but then, knowing he probably wouldn't fit in one of the nearby chairs, took a seat Indian style on the floor, books piled to one side, pondered over which one to look through first.

Yet again the maroon volume seemed to call to him. Shrugging, he picked it up and flipped to the first page, seeing in bold print that this was a collection of poetry. Odd thing for Broom to have…but then why not?

Poetry was so very girly though…

H.B. grunted and considered putting the book aside, when he noticed the spine of the book was very bent 1/3rd of the way through. Maybe a favorite poem of Broom's? Something he'd read more than once? H.B. easily landed on the section in question only to have something filter out from between the pages and fall square on his lap.

His yellow eyes widened and his right hand grabbed for it, making sure to be gentle. It was an old, faded black and white photo of a young woman. H.B squinted at it, curious. The woman had shortly cropped, wavy blonde hair, a little ribbon fixed in the corner. She wore a sleeveless but long dress. She was very thin but very pretty - she looked like someone...some actress...

What was the name of that chick in all those Woody Allen flicks? Not the brunette but the blonde…and she was in that one flick he really hated - the one with the devil and the pregnant lady who was having his demon baby…Rosemary somethin'-or-other…

Oh well, H.B. decided that was who she looked like. He wondered why her photo was in this book, near the bent spine. A bookmark? Why this photo…why these pages…

His eyes settled on the page and he read the poem aloud to himself quietly, "'She Dwelt Among Untrodden Ways'…'William Wordsworth'…she dwelt among the untrodden ways, besides the springs of Dove, Maid whom there were none to praise and very few to love: A violet by a mosy tone, half hidden from the eye! Fair as a star, when only one is shining in the sky. She lived…"

As H.B reached this point another voice joined in with his own and his eyes widened as the poem was completed by them both, "Unknown, and few could know, when Lucy ceased to be; but she is in her grave, and, oh, the difference to me."

As he reached the last word he turned slowly to see his worst fear confirmed. Broom stood there and H.B. cringed. Unlike other people's fathers, when Hellboy misbehaved he was not yelled at or scolded…instead he received these stone cold, sad eyes that spoke volumes of disappointment, hitting him in the gut much worse than any raised voice could have.

H.B. licked his lips and squirmed where he sat, "Father…"

Broom walked over and took a seat in the chair H.B. had earlier declined. H.B. looked up, waiting for the dreaded 'eyes', but instead saw that Broom's face was quite indiscernible. Instead he merely looked at the large red, demon child he called son and held out a hand, asking softly, "The photo, if you please."

H.B. sheepishly handed it over, thoughts whirling. They sat in silence for several moments and H.B. bit his tongue even though he was bubbling with question as to who the photo was and why it had been bookmarking that particular poem. The words had spoke of sad sorrow and death, of lost love and a girl named Lucy. Was the girl in the photo named Lucy or did the poem remind Broom of someone or…

Broom sighed, interrupting Hellboy's torrent of thoughts, and leaned forward in his chair slightly, eyes still on the photo, "I am going to tell you a story. This photo…this girl…her name was Lady Elizabeth Colton. And I knew her a very, very long time ago…"

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PAST

"Read me another, please." Elizabeth asked, pushing the book closer to a young Trevor Broom's face.

Blushing, he flipped through the maroon book, "Um…do you like William Blake?"

"Tyger! Tyger! Burning Bright!" Elizabeth laughed and shook her head, sitting up on her heels. Every movement she made disturbed the checkered picnic blanket beneath them, and today she had moved often, uncharacteristically animated, causing the blanket to be very scrunched up.

Broom straightened it yet again and sighed, "I'm taking that as a 'no'."

"That is most definitely a 'no', Trevor, I have heard that one too many times before. Now come on, find me one, hmm? Pick me out one special."

He shook his head, a smile filtering about his mouth, "I am not much one for picking poetry. I hardly read it…"

"Oh go on, just give it a try."

"Tell me, why are you so jittery today, hmm? Too much sugar…"

"Mmmmmaybe. I did have an extra lump in my tea this afternoon."

"Is that why we are having a picnic outside in the park on a rainy day?"

"Oh now, Trevor, don't be such a baby! It's merely a drizzle, nothing to get worked up about…"

"I am not worked up, merely asking," he murmured under his breath, removing his glasses and cleaning the dewy rainwater off of them again. Elizabeth gave another laugh and Broom's heart melted - the sound like twinkling bells to his ears.

Elizabeth eased close and Broom felt his blood run like hot water through his veins as she purred, "Please. Another poem."

Taking in a shaky breath to try and calm himself, Broom settled on one poem and read aloud, voice squeaking and scratchy at first, "If I can stop one heart from breaking, I shall not live in vain. If I can ease one life the aching, or cool one pain. Or help one fainting robin, unto his nest again, I shall not live in vain."

"Now there's one I like, who wrote it?"

"Emily Dickinson."

"Ah ha! Figures."

"How so?"

"Well she is a woman, is she not?" Elizabeth teased, hands on her hips. Trevor rolled his eyes and Elizabeth laughed again, resting off of her heels and onto the side of her left thigh, she looked at him and her head inclined to one side, "You would much rather be reading to me about your paranormal research, would you not?"

"I…well…"

"You can read that too, Trevor, you know that. I merely suggested the poetry today for a change, but you know as much as I, that I love hearing your work about other dimensions…about your fields of research in the bizarre. Sometimes it is frightening but it is also so…so beautiful. Some of the strange things out there…some of the paranormal…they are very lovely, don't you think?"

"Yes," he returned, voice breathless as his heart squeezed tight, "I do."

His eyes looked at her so intensely that she blushed, her own gaze casting down, "My father would hate to hear me speak of such things. You know how he frowns on the paranormal but…this world is so big, there is so much that mere science cannot explain and I…I think it is wonderful to think of something magical out there, something unexplainable that…that contributes to things. Something wild and uncontrollable and...and Trevor, why are you looking at me like that?"

Broom swallowed and felt slightly skittish. He had been fighting this omission for days but he knew now was the time. It was the whole reason he had agreed to the picnic and the poetry…a chance to get her alone and away from her friends, her servants, her father…a chance to say what had been hanging heavily on his heart almost since the moment he had first laid eyes on her. And hearing her speak now - with such love and passion for the very things he cared for, that he had dedicated his life to…

Taking a deep breath, eyes scattering about, he said quietly, "Elizabeth…I - I think you should know I - I am…quite in love with you."

Elizabeth looked at him, eyes widening as his words sank in. Then the most gorgeous smile took her face, white teeth sparkling, soft pink lips inviting as she eased towards him, "Oh Trevor! You don't have to say it like that! 'Quite' in love with me! Honestly! Say you love me again, but without the 'quite', will you? If you do, I promise you it will be worth it."

"I…I love y-you…"

And true to her word, Elizabeth moved swiftly forward, pinning him to the tree he had been resting his back against, her mouth covering his. Broom's eyes widened and he sat frozen. He had never kissed a woman before. Not once. No one had been interested. He knew how the act was done but frankly…

Elizabeth's mouth slid hotly to one side and Broom's eyes widened. What was she doing?! Then he felt…good gracious! Was that her tongue?! He opened his mouth to ask or protest…he wasn't sure which, but then the next thing he knew she had what was indeed her tongue in his mouth and what she was doing…

He groaned and twisted slightly beneath her…hands no longer fumbling to his sides but coming up to rest on her rounded hips. He could feel them under her dress and he drew her closer before he knew what he was doing. It was as if some madness had possessed him., he tried to mimic her actions and received a pleased noise in response…he had always been a fast learner…perhaps he was doing this right…

When her fingers clenched in his hair and she wriggled up closer to him he received his answer. And then she pulled away, leaving him gasping, wanting more…

Her dark eyes twinkled and she giggled nervously, "Forgive me for being so bold, Trevor…I know it was improper…the way I kissed you. A dish boy did that to me once when I was younger. My father had his ears boxed and he was promptly fired but…I never forgot and...I wanted to share it with you because your words…what you said. Oh dearest Trevor, you know…I 'quite' love you back."

The first half of what she blathered out fell upon fuzzy ears as he floated back down to earth but the last thing she said - oh that struck right home, his heart bursting apart with joy as he sat up, eyes wide, "You mean it?!"

"Yes, Trevor, you silly, silly man!"

"Oh Elizabeth…you have made me so happy. The happiest man," Trevor frowned, intelligent mind immediately settling on the obvious problem, "Your father…he will never approve the union."

"Do not worry about my father, Trevor. We shall find a way…after all, in three weeks you will be leaving these shores to attended Nikola Tesla's lectures."

"Oh…yes…the lectures," Broom's heart fell as he remembered this fact, "Elizabeth, I want to go but…but if you…if you think I should stay…"

"No, no, shhh, my dearest Trevor, my love," she breathed the last part giddily, a finger dancing across his lower lip to silence him, "I do wish you could stay but…these lectures are important to you. To your work and your life and studies and I….I would not deprive you of that. These plans have been in motion long before you and I…became you and I. No, no I will not hear another word of it - you must go to the lectures. I can endure a separation and when you return…oh Trevor, I shall take care of my father and we can…be together. If - if you would like."

"I would like it more than anything, Elizabeth."

"Are you 'quite' sure."

"Oh now," he huffed a bit indignantly, "There's no reason to tease."

"I know, I am sorry, I could not help myself, my Trevor."

"You certainly have many names for me, you seem to cook up a new one every minutes - dearest Trevor, silly man, my love, and now my Trevor…"

"You wish to tease me now, hmm? You object?"

"Oh no, no I quite like the names and titles…I was just thinking perhaps you should get one in return."

"Really? Yes, I suppose that would be fair. So what name would you give me? Precious jewel? The apple of your eye?"

"How about…Lizzy."

"Oh Trevor!" Elizabeth batted at his arm and now it was his turn to laugh as she scowled, 'That name is just horrid! It calls to mind that Borden girl! No, something else…"

"Lizbeth?"

"What? Like _Mac_beth? I think not…"

"Liz…"

"Now that is a rather fetching," Elizabeth muttered thoughtfully and rested herself against Broom's chest, ear pressed to his heart. He wrapped both arms around her and held her close, smiling broadly, "Liz it is."

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1988

Hellboy sat solemnly, his head bowed, as the now much older Trevor Broom finished the story, "While overseas, Elizabeth died. I returned to London and on her grave, I vowed, that it is not the fate of my own soul that will concern me now, but that of the whole world."

"Kinda like the Dickinson poem." The words left H.B.'s mouth before he could stop them and he looked up at Broom, afraid of some reprimand.

Instead, remarkably, Broom gave a proud smile, "Yes, indeed. Very much so. Now," he rose to his feet slowly and H.B. followed suit, "Do you wish to tell me what you were doing sneaking about my office?"

"Oh…um…" H.B. scratched at the back of his head, swallowing, "See…the thing is…I didn't mean to be sneaking…persay. I was just…I wanted to…to get away and think and…and maybe talk to you later about…well…I'm not sure I can talk to you about it but then…seeing as you…had a girl - um - you - um - know the - the new girl…"

"Ms. Sherman," Professor Broom sighed and shook his head, looking slightly amused, "Yes, I know of her, I am surprised you managed to finally get that out. You've been looking at her with eyes as big as dinner plates since she arrived. I know you and I haven't had a chance to talk much as of late, but you can talk to me about girls if you like."

"Eh - talk to you about…," H.B. shifted, uncomfortable and embarrassed, squeaking under his breath, "Girls…well…um…eh…you see…."

"You know what? On second thought, why don't you just talk to me about Liz."

"Ah yes, Liz!" H.B. seemed to brighten at the idea of referring to her as 'Liz' as opposed to the whole subject of 'girls' in general. But as he was about to begin to ask his father an exorbitant amount of question he queered gently, "Is it…okay to mention her even though you…you lost your own…Liz?"

Broom gave a sad smile and nodded his head, "Yes, it is. I appreciate you asking but…you see, I never lost 'my' Liz. Elizabeth is still with me and will be with me always."

"Yeah?"

"Yes, she is right here," he pointed to his chest, underneath where his heart rested and H.B. smiled. Broom shook his head, "Now about your Liz…"

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PRESENT

Hellboy entered his father's office, just as he had then, except this time he was not sneaking, he entered solemnly. He looked at the familiar sights - the same as always - walls of books, statues, desk lamps, tables and chairs…leftover notes and scribbles - work left undone that would remain undone because the man who started them was no more.

Professor Trevor 'Broom' Bruttenholm was dead. Hellboy had held the old man's lifeless, fragile form in his massive arms, cradled his dear head close and wished valiantly for it all not to be true, for it to be some bad joke…

But it was not. His father was gone and now he was all alone. He wandered about the office, fingering this and that, sinking in memories. He found himself inevitably floating over towards one bookstack in particular.

His left hand reached out and paused in mid air, drawing back for a second and then, with renewed strength, it moved forward and plucked a volume from the top shelf. The maroon covered book, a collection of poetry, still remained without dust.

He knew why he'd picked this book up, he even knew what page to flip to. He did so, finding the picture of Elizabeth Colton. He looked at it silently for several moments. Then he flipped to the index of the book and found a poem by Emily Dickinson.

He read the title aloud, "'If I Can Stop One Heart From Breaking'."

He could still recall to mind Broom's vow, the one he'd made over Elizabeth's grave, the vow that Hellboy himself now made. It was not the fate of his own soul that would concern him now, but that of the whole world.

He looked at Elizabeth's pretty face. He hoped that now she was no longer in his father's heart, but in his arms, together in whatever lay after…

He was comforted slightly in knowing that, like his father, he would never be without the ones he lost. Broom would always be with him in his heart. Smiling sadly, grimly, H.B. wiped away a tear on his cheek, not even bothering to pretend it had been caused by dust in his eye or some such thing…

His mind turned to Moscow and what lay ahead when suddenly a bizarre thought popped into his head and he took hold of a dictionary. He flipped to the 'Q's and found 'quixotic', mumbling under his breath, "'Quixotic, adjective, extravagantly chivalrous or romantically idealistic…huh…figures."


End file.
